Sparks
by Thedarkofknight
Summary: Alex Logan is a girl with a mysterious past that not even she herself knows the whole truth about. A newcomer to Gotham, she faces love, betrayal, and danger as she realizes that not everything is as it seems...
1. PrologueEpilogue

**Prologue** _(or an Epilogue, depending on your view) _

Her eyes fluttered open. The most beautiful sight he thought he'd ever seen.

"Alex." Bruce whispered, if he had said it any louder his voice would've cracked. "Alex, are you alright?" Her face remained emotionless, her eyes looking upward. Did she remember anything, Bruce thought, or has Alex Logan, _his_ Alex Logan, left forever?

The girl gazed skyward in a sort of trance. She felt she had awaken from a dream, but could not remember it. She didn't care to remember it either until she heard the man beside her speak. Who was Alex? She glanced over at him. He was staring right at her with a mixed expression of relief and worry. Perhaps she was Alex? The girl looked again at his face. There was a stirring inside her mind. She knew this man. She knew him...lost deep in thought, she was caught by surprise when the mysterious man suddenly leaned over her and kissed her on the forehead. That's when it came back. When the memories flooded over the barrier, overwhelming and powerful. Memories. From this one, to the painful moments before, and even the times before the next chapter will start.


	2. Chapter 1

**First story, so not exactly sure how the website works, so feel free to tell me if I'm doing anything weirdly. I don't own any Batman characters, :(, but I _do_ own my OC, Alex Logan, who's look is inspired by Camilla Belle, so you can now see what she looks like. And... Audios, fellow Batfans!**

I had always wondered what had happened to my birth parents. Why did they abandon me? Why didn't they leave some clue as to their identities?

It was these questions that led me to my parents' now empty house. I needed to find them, especially since my single adoptive parent died a year ago. I was done losing the people I loved- or could've loved. I surveyed the front of the building, hidden in the depths of the green forests of Canada. The house was old, left years ago. Peeling paint, weathered wood, rusty doorknob. I cautiously opened the door and stepped inside.

I looked around. It wasn't empty and lonely like I had imagined to be; it had a lived-in look, although much dustier. Why didn't they take their things? I wondered as I peered into the bedroom which still held some items on top of a dresser and table. By the bed stood a table and upon it sat photographs of my parents together. I carefully picked one up, wiped the layer of dust off, and stared upon the familiar strangers' faces. A clue. My heart jumped and I quickly slipped the picture into my pants pocket. I didn't want to get emotional now, not in the middle of an important investigation.

After a search through the other furniture, I had accomplished nothing but wasting my time. I then peeked under the bed and sneezed from the dirt that leapt into the air. It was dark and I couldn't see anything at first. I was nervous about sticking my hand under for fear of any rodents having taken residence there. I took a deep breath and thrust my hand into the darkness. I was surprised when I felt a cool, smooth object against my fingers. I gripped the side of what felt like a box and pulled it out. There, glinting in the sunlight from the windows, lay a silver briefcase. Excitement rose inside of me as I tried unlatching it, but there was a combination lock beside the handle. How was I supposed to know the code? And more importantly, what was inside? I shook it and heard nothing, though it felt heavy. I examined it closely, turning it over and over, until I finally gave up. Whatever the combination was, it was long gone with my parents. I was about to put it back when I glanced a second time at it. Maybe I could break it open? I thought doubtfully. Maybe not, but for whatever reason, I ended up walking out the door with it, intriguingly curious about the contents.

If only I had not taken that second glance.


	3. Chapter 2

(I reccomend watching X-men origins: Wolverine; not necessary to watch other X-men , can you find out where the code is from? Answer in next chapter!)

A week had past since the finding of the brief case. I hadn't thought about it that much since then, for one, a block of metal is a little boring. I had given up any hope of opening it myself. Also, I was a little busy with, well, life. My boyfriend, former boyfriend, dumped me for his hair stylist. I knew those visits to the hair salon were getting a little too frequent. Whatever, I had known he wouldn't last.

Meanwhile, I was stuck as a cashier at Wal-Mart after being fired from my last job as a dentist, while not always enjoyable, it is one of the highest paying jobs in Canada. Just wonderful.

I sighed miserably as I scanned the items for the customer and placed them in plastic bags. She glanced over at me, uncertain. I instantly faked a smile.

"Have a nice day, ma'am." I glanced at the clock. In five minutes, my shift would be over. My smile turned genuine.

I drove home, eager to rest from the long day.

I grabbed my purse and unlocked the door. I went straight to my room, ready to get my throbbing feet out of my shoes. I came to the doorway, then stopped dead in my tracks. Someone was there. Whoever it was must have heard me, because they turned around. A man in a long, dark coat with what looked like fangs was standing in my bedroom. The stranger smiled somewhat cryptically at me as he sauntered threateningly toward me.

"Who are you? Why are you here?" I backed up.

He held his hands up to show no harm. "I was just waiting to give you this." the man held up a plain white envelope. He flipped it to the other side revealing the name "Alex Logan", my name.

"Where did you get that?" My back was now against the hallway wall. No escape.

"I got it from your father, it was supposed to be given to you by your aunt but now she's, you know."

"My aunt?"

"Your adoptive mother was your aunt," he handed the letter to me, "anyways, thought it might be useful for that." he pointed to the briefcase at the foot of my bed.

I shook my head, unbelieving. How dare he mention Mom like he knew more about her than I did. "You're lying to me. You won't even tell me your name! How am I supposed to trust you?!" My voice escalated with each word I spoke.

"Victor Creed. Does that change anything for you?" he didn't wait for me to answer, "didn't think so. And you can't trust me. You can't trust anyone, not with your past."

My eyes narrowed. "And what is my past?"

"You don't want to know." He then exited through the window. Must've been how he got in.

After a minute or two trying to get over the strangeness of everything that had happened, I carefully opened the letter.

_Dear Alex,_

_ I'm sorry that you had to be a part of this. I didn't want to get you involved, and sending you away with your aunt seemed like the best option. I can't tell you how much I want to see you, but that can never happen. _

_ If you're reading this, you're in danger. You need to leave and stay with someone who can protect you. Someone you can trust. Because you are not a regular person. You are a mutant. _

I gasped and almost dropped the paper. Mutants had only been a myth. A legend as real as the Loch Ness Monster. Or so I'd been told. I continued reading, intrigued.

_ People will be looking for you. But so will I. We had to give you up to protect you. Your mom and I are both mutants, and if the absolute worst is to happen, I have provided my DNA for you to inject into yourself and you will have the ability to heal rapidly. Good luck, Alex. I hope to see you soon. 4582_


	4. Chapter 3

(answer: code is from Logan's dogtags)

This has to be some kind of joke, I thought as I read and reread the letter over several times. My life can't just suddenly be flipped upside down just like that! This is a mistake! I was pacing back and forth across my room, my mind trying to sort everything out. I finally gathered the courage to get the briefcase.

I glanced at the letter, though I had memorized every word of it by now. I carefully slid the correct numbers into place and it opened with a small click. I opened it. This wasn't a joke. Well, at least not this part. A syringe and two small, dark, tinted bottles were inside, each lying in a cushion of fabric. I stared at the needle, cringing a little. I knew my fear was irrational, but I couldn't help it.

I picked up the bottles, avoiding the syringe, inspecting them closely. Strange. This whole ordeal was so strange.

I was curious to know if this "healing serum" worked. But I guess I would never find out; there was no way the needle would ever come in contact with my skin, not if I could help it. I closed container and shivered.

I was afraid. Afraid that Victor Creed would come back, afraid what I'd just read was true.

I dug my phone out of jeans pocket. I wanted to talk to someone, to keep my mind off of things. I was scrolling through my contacts when a text message notification popped up on my screen. "I know the last time we talked..." read the pop-up. It was from a strange number. I went to my messaging app.

"I know the last time we talked you said you never wanted to hear from me again, but I just want to say I'm sorry. For everything. -Wyatt Wilson"

After reading this, I was no longer scared. In fact, I could barely suppress the throbbing anger I felt when I saw his name. Bitter memories of that day that I thought I had forgotten rose to the surface. But he had said he was sorry. Wyatt wasn't the kind of person to do that, so I knew he meant it. But the pain...

Wyatt had been my boyfriend in college. I don't know why we dated; he was a complete jerk. Oh yes, it was because he was hot. He looked just like Ryan Reynolds. One night, he took me out to an expensive restaurant. He told me to meet him there. Before we sat down, I excused myself so I could go to the bathroom. A woman followed me in and told me she had seen Wyatt on a date with a different girl before I had come. I broke up with him after that. I had thought, at the time, that we were going to get married someday. I had thought he was the one.

I dialed Wyatt's number. I anxiously waited for him to pick up.

"Hello?" His voice had become deeper.

"Hi, it's Alex."

"Alex, I'm so sorry. I know it's too late, but I'm sorry." He sounded sincere. I was surprised.

"I forgive you, Wyatt," I never thought I'd say the words. "How about we start over?" Why, you ask, was I being so nice after all that had happened? Well, time had passed, and maybe he had changed. I wasn't one to hold a grudge anyways.

"Thank you, you don't know what this means to me."

An awkward silence passed. I decided to change the subject.

"So, how's football going?" I asked.

"I quit football a long time ago. I'm a cop now, in the US."

"I thought you had to be an American citizen to be a cop."

"I am. I only went to college in Canada. I'm from the US."

"You're from the States? How come you didn't tell me?"

"I didn't think I had to." I guess we hadn't been as close as I had thought.

"Oh." I replied.

"You know, I was gonna come back and visit some friends next week. Will you be in town?"

"Yah, I will."

"Could I come over? I just want to be friends, like we used to be. We had so much fun together." I was starting to wonder what he meant by 'friends'.

"Sure, we could hang out."

"Ok, see you next week then."

"Sounds good. Bye."

"Bye."

I put down the phone and realized something: I had just scheduled a date with my ex-boyfriend.


	5. Chapter 4

He had texted me. "Monday, 6:00". It was Monday, half-past five. I looked in the mirror one more time. I had made sure my outfit was a perfect balance between casual and cute. Or was it too casual? I returned to my closet.

As I carefully placed the last strand of my hair in place, the doorbell rang. I jumped. I hadn't even heard him pull in. I went to the door, hesitated, then let Wyatt in. With a grin, he said: "Good evening, Alex."

"Good evening. I'm glad you could come." I led him into the living room and gestured for him to sit down on the couch. He looked around.

"Nice place you got." He glanced at me. "How have you been? Still with the dentistry thing?"

"Oh, no, I've been...uh, painting. Dentistry just wasn't my thing," I stammered.

"I see. I remember you to be quite the artist, actually."

I nodded.

"I was always calling you 'the next Mozart' until you informed me that Mozart wasn't an artist, he was actually a composer." He smiled.

"And you were taking piano too."

"Yeah. From my mom."

Wyatt stopped his flow of conversation and suddenly seemed to be thinking about something. He said, quietly: "I know this is a sensitive subject for you, but I'm curious. Have you found out anything about your parents?"

I avoided his eyes. "No, I haven't." I lied.

"Hmmm. Somehow, I feel that you're lying to me." He had caught me. He knew me too well. Plus, I was a bad liar. "Why do you think you can't trust me? I've changed, Alex. I'm not gonna hurt you." His eyes pleaded with me. Begging to be let in like a puppy at the front door. I couldn't resist.

"Alright, alright. Someone dropped by the other day and- how about I just show you. Come on." Wyatt followed me to my bedroom. I took the briefcase out of its place under my bed along with the letter.

"Don't think I'm crazy." I said as he read the letter. His expression worried me. He looked amused, about to laugh.

"Alex, this is perfect!" he exclaimed. He bent down and opened the case. He inspected the items inside much like I had that first night, except he had no trouble with the needle.

"What's perfect?" I asked. Did he think this was a joke?

"This is exactly what I wanted to tell you today, but I didn't know how to say it." He looked me in the eye. "Mutants are real. I know this because I'm one. You are too, apparently."

This was too much for me to take in.

"Wait, so this is not- this is,-it's all real?" My brow furrowed. "And you," I pointed at Wyatt, "you can't be..."

"I'll go get you some aspirin if you need some."

"No, I'm fine. Actually, I'm not fine, not at all. What kind of-powers- do you have?" I felt like I was in a comic book all of a sudden.

"I'm good with swords."

"Oh." I blinked.

"You know, if this letter is reliable, which it probably is, you're not safe here."

I nodded, unable to speak.

Wyatt, who had moved closer to me after the comment about the aspirin, took my hands in his.

"Wyatt, what are you-"

"Alex, come with me to America. Please, I don't want you to get hurt. You don't have any family here to stay with, it's only reasonable."

"I guess."

"I'm serious. Will you?"

"I will."


	6. So sorry

Hello readers. I'm sorry to have to say that I will not be posting for a while. I will post another chapter when I have several ready so that you guys won't be waiting for long periods of time. Thank you for understanding and for your patience.


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